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845 > Page 845 of The romance and tragedy of pioneer life. A popular account of the heroes and adventurers who, by their valor and war-craft, beat back the savages from the borders of civilization and gave the American forests to the plow and the sickle ..

JOSEPH AND HIS BRETIIREX. 845 been attacked by Indians and driven back, hastily prepared for flight to Mount Idaho, eighteen miles away. It was ten o'clock at night, and they were all in bed when the alarm reached them. Two of the party rode horseback and the rest were packed into a farm wagon. In this order they took up their journey without delay. Ten miles, more than half the distance, had been made when they heard behind them, clattering down the stony trail, the hoofs of hurrying horses. On they pressed in their lumbering coach, but the pursuers gained rapidly. They began to fire on the little party of refugees. Norton and Moore, who were on horses, were each terribly wounded, and had to be taken into the wagon. In a few moments the balls, which whistled over the party lying flat in the wagon, without injury, struck and killed the horses composing the wagon team. Further progress was impossible. The party sprang out of the wagon in an attempt to escape on foot. Miss Bowers and little Hill Norton got away in the darkness. The Chamberlain family fled in another direction, but were discovered and pursued. The husband and father was shot dead. The boy was murdered, according to the mother's statement, by having his head placed beneath the knees of a powerful Indian and crushed. The other child was torn from its mother, a piece of its tongue cut out, and a knife run quite through its neck, and left sticking there. Mrs. Chamberlain was repeatedly outraged by the Indians, and received severe injuries. The remainder of the party, despairing of escape'by flight, had undertaken to conceal themselves behind and beneath the dead horses. Here Norton was killed. Moore was shot through the hips, Day through' the shoulder and leg, and Mrs. Norton through both legs. Day and Moore subsequently died. The Indians were frantic with delight. " See this fine horse, this rifle, saddle, and these good clothes! Why remain here talking forever ? The war has begun ! I am mad! I have killed our enemies ! There is blood ! Come on; there is plenty